Swan Song

SWAN SONG I am the miner of your gold, the spinner of your tale, and so the weaver of your dream. I come and go. These are the final days for me, all manner of phrophesy must be, my trial and tribulation, earth shaking in diver's places, famine and destruction,. and son has risen up to slay the Father, The time is here. In night I walk with you, where as a child you could see the stars, the moonlight so real it made you cry, but you are not there, I walk alone with you. Night has no dark on desert sand, where such a moon has the glow. You have replaced all of this beauty with the dream, in a land where no moonlight exists, in a land where stars hide behind corruption and polution, in a land where all dream ends in a nightmare of disappointment. I am your weaver of dream, the spinner of your tale, and I will make your dream come true. Then I must go. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet